waves of the prairie, tipping the swells with gleams of brightness,
and leaving the interval land in deep shadow. Accustomed to scenes of
solitude like the present, the old man, as he left the encampment,
proceeded alone into the waste, like a bold vessel leaving its haven
to enter on the trackless field of the ocean. He appeared to move for
some time without object, or, indeed, without any apparent
consciousness, whither his limbs were carrying him. At length, on
reaching the rise of one of the undulations, he came to a stand; and,
for the first time since leaving the band, who had caused such a flood
of reflections and recollections to crowd upon his mind, the old man
became aware of his present situation. Throwing one end of his rifle
to the earth, he stood leaning on the other, again lost in deep
contemplation for several minutes, during which time his hound came
and crouched at his feet. A deep, menacing growl, from the faithful
animal, first aroused him from his musing.

"What now, dog?" he said, looking down at his companion, as if he
addressed a being of an intelligence equal to his own, and speaking in
a voice of great affection. "What is it, pup? ha! Hector; what is it
nosing, now? It won't do, dog; it won't do; the very fa'ns play in
open view of us, without minding so worn out curs, as you and I.
Instinct is their gift, Hector and, they have found out how little we
are to be feared, they have!"

The dog stretched his head upward, and responded to the words of his
master by a long and plaintive whine, which he even continued after he
had again buried his head in the grass, as if he held an intelligent
communication with one who so well knew how to interpret dumb
discourse.